27: the beatific and the horrific, blessing the fleet, ju ju, comfort zone, those pants I was telling you about, sunday closures, delta zeta, the bed?

April 13, 2025

Brunswick to Townsend

I found this little guy crawling on the bed this morning. I guess if you're going to sleep in the forest, you need to expect things like this. I'd still stay here again.

The temperature dropped to 48F/8.8C last night, so I was really glad I had a sleeping bag to keep me warm. The sheet just wouldn't have been up to the challenge.

Lynn, one of the staff members, on the left, and Jodie, the director, on the right.

Today alternated between the beatific and the horrific, then back again. Or, as Dickens would have said: "It was the best of roads, it was the worst of roads," with not much in between. This post is going to be similar to the one two days ago and will have a lot of "road pictures," mainly because that's mostly what I saw.

On and off, for half of the day I rode on roads like this.

with the ubiquitous rumble strips (there will be no more posting of rumble strips)

stretches of broad roads with absolutely nothing on them but me. It's a Sunday, so there weren't even any workers

This is the section I was able to ride on. The cars had a slender strip of road to the right. Of course, that same slender strip is the one I pedaled on when there wasn't a construction zone.

I don't even know what this is. I just love the name because it's so incongruent in Georgia.

This is a picture looking back at two police cars blocking the road I'm on. I slipped past on the sidewalk, and kept expecting them to notice me, then chase me down to let me know that there's a hostage situation or something ahead, but they let me keep going. After that....

I had the entire road for miles. I could've taken a nap in the middle of the street.

At the end of the long road I came to Darien, a quaint town on the Altamaha River that was having its annual "Blessing of the Fleet Festival." The purpose of the festival, as far as I could tell, is to give families the opportunity to spend $12.00 on a hot dog while listening to music coming from speakers the size of a refrigerator. And to bless the fishing boats.

According to one of the people I talked to at the treehouse hostel, Darien stakes a claim that IT was actually the first place Oglethorpe landed, not in Savannah. This, not because he was choosing to settle here, but because he got stuck on a sandbar.

Great roads, terrible roads, great roads, terrible roads.... I missed a lot of pictures today because I was looking in my mirror more than the scenery. In fact, instead of glancing in my mirror on occasion, I would glance at the road ahead on occasion. When the cars behind me would start to drift left in anticipation of passing I would hear the bup-bup-bup-bup-bup of the center-line rumble strip sounding like a strafing Stuka. There were so many cars the sound was continuous. And, of course, there were cars coming from the opposite direction as well; they would hit the rumble strips on the far side of the road. When you add an 8-10 mph headwind, it made for a difficult day and I just wanted to get someplace safe: there were times when it was just plain dangerous.

I had some of this today, both good and bad.

Sometimes when I'm reading a journal I notice that a person will say that the reason they tour is to "get out of their comfort zone." I've given that some consideration and think "Why in the world would anyone want to do that??? Because, you know, I like being comfortable.

But do I? If so, why would I opt to sleep on the ground instead of at home, snuggled up next to my wife? Why would I intentionally choose to eat a crappy microwave burrito from a convenience store instead of home cooking? Would a guy who likes being comfortable have calluses on his ass?

Of course, the writer could mean something besides physical comfort, like getting out of one's emotional comfort zone. Again, who likes to do that?? This Introvert says No Thank You. I will remain in the corner behind this plant.

And yet if that's the case, why would I chat up complete strangers after they ask me the Usual Questions?

And WHY, on God's Green Earth, would I think, "Hey! There's a Naturist (aka nudist) RV Campground on my route! I should stay there!" ???

Well, that's not actually true. My first thought was that I noticed they had laundry services, so I giggled a little. My second thought was that I saw they had "full hookup services," and giggled some more.... But my THIRD thought was that I should stay there.

As it turns out, I would've had to pass on the Treehouse so I know I made the right choice, but I did determine that I would at least stop by their office to talk to someone. I'll gently tease about something like that, but I'd also like to learn more because it's something I know nothing about (out of my comfort zone, perhaps?). I don't understand naturists, but can respect a different perspective, and that we're all so vastly different, which is what makes a trip like this interesting.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint), having made the decision to stop, I was so focused on the road and the traffic that I missed it, and probably a lot of other interesting things along the way as well.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint), I didn't die from not paying attention to the traffic.

You thought I was kidding about finding a pair of long pants on the side of the road. On the one hand, they're a little short and only go down to just above my ankles. On the other hand, they're longer than my bike shorts, so....maybe???

After an interminable ride, I arrived in Townsend. I had checked to see if there were any places to eat that were open and Google Maps noted several. This convenience store is one of the "open ones." It's open, but because it's Sunday they weren't serving any food.

I ended up going to the Dollar General and getting some microwavable food, which was surprisingly good.

As I was checking into the hotel I ended up talking to the manager about her diabetic neuropathy for a while. It's what I do.

Delta Zeta, a sorority founded in Ohio, features prominently on the pillowcases, and illustrates in the way that only pillowcases can what a classy hotel this is... two stars, mind you, TWO stars.

I do wonder about the connection, though. Are there Delta Zeta pillowcases in other rooms as well? I could go wandering around with my camera like I did at the Treehouse, looking in all the motel windows, but that's probably not such a great idea in a parking lot with more gun racks in the trucks than teeth in the owners' mouths.

Even more interesting than the pillowcases was the bed itself. I recorded the sound but I'm unable to load that type of file onto CycleBlaze, and YouTube doesn't allow them, either.

Every time I pressed down on the bed, or even rolled over on it, the mattress emitted what sounded like a fart. This was not an insubstantial sound, more of the large bean-and-cheese-burrito quality, the volume of which could definitely be heard in the next room.

I recorded it for you because I'm familiar with the literary standards of the readers of this blog. And because everyone wants to hear a bed fart.

At least, I think it was the bed.

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Wanda JenningsDid you just say your brain was in your butt? Eh? 🤭
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6 days ago

Today's ride: 36 miles (58 km)
Total: 743 miles (1,196 km)

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